Lost Hart, page 3
And then he disappeared without a word, and she was the one left feeling uncertain and unsure … lost.
Shrugging, she kindly swatted Thea’s roaming hand away from her other breast. If her child had it her way, she’d be nursing on one side and fiddling with the nipple on the other—no freaking way! “Yeah, lost is a good word. What happened to him for him to be like this? Was it a mission?”
Joy’s eyes closed slowly, and she pressed her lips together. Her petite frame seemed to heave as she inhaled deeply through her nose and opened her eyes. “Yes. But it’s not my story to tell. I don’t want to betray his trust. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but I know that when he was helping you with the kids, I hadn’t seen him that happy, that unlost in a long time. And then …”
“And then he left.”
Joy nodded and blew out her breath. “And then he left.”
“Did he ever say what prompted him to leave?” Was it her? Was it the sex? Was she too clingy? His abrupt departure had seriously messed with her already fragile self-esteem, and even after five months, she was still struggling with it.
Her parents’ lack of ability to be parents to her had messed with her head big time. She knew she had abandonment issues. That was a no-brainer that didn’t require a therapist once a week. Add in her late husband and everything he’d put her through, and then Chase—yeah, Stacey had some feelings about people leaving her, whether it be with warning or not.
Joy’s head shook softly. “My boys aren’t big talkers, if you haven’t noticed. Heath’s probably the chattiest of them all, and even he’s got tight lips. I mean, I’m a therapist and pretty much demanded my kids talk to me, but they’re also boys—men, so that’s a hurdle of its own. They give me what they can. If I push too hard, then I’ll get even less from them. It’s a fine line to walk.”
Joy knew more than what she was saying, though. Chase might not be a big talker, but he’d said enough to his mother that she knew the main reason for his lostness. Right now, it was she who was being the one with tight lips.
Joy cleared her throat. “Brock’s better now that he has Krista. She’s a cop and understands some of what he’s gone through more than most women could. I just wish the rest of my sons could find love like Brock has. A soft place to land when the days and memories get impossible to carry alone.”
Her gaze turned gentle, wistful.
“That’s what I was for my Zane all those years ago. His soft place. He said even though I’m small, he never felt more protected than when he was wrapped up in my arms.” A tear slid down her cheek, and she wiped it away with haste, smiling through the burgeoning emotions until a chuckle forced its way out. “Man’s been gone nearly thirty years, and I still get all weepy thinking about him.”
“A sign of true love right there,” Stacey said softly, feeling her own emotions clawing their way up her throat. She’d always been a hopeless romantic—until Ted, her husband, ruined that part of her by lying to her from day one. She thought romance and love might still exist for her when she felt the tendrils of attraction begin to wrap around her last year with Chase. But he’d snapped those strands pretty damn quickly when he left.
Now, she really believed that the only true loves in her life were between her and her children. The rest could come and go—just like the men in her life—but the love that would stick, the love that would grow and never die, was the love she had for Connor and Thea. And even though she did love Chase and probably always would, she needed to put that pipe dream to rest and focus on her future, which was giving her two kids the best damn life possible.
Chapter 3
It made Chase’s decision to visit his brother Brock a hell of a lot easier knowing he wouldn’t run into Rex. Brock’s office was in his basement, and there was always one brother or another hanging around, playing with the kids, helping Brock with paperwork, or eating Krista’s delicious cooking.
But the knowledge that Rex was off on a job lifted the anxiety in Chase more than he would ever admit.
He’d popped home briefly and tossed on a load of laundry before climbing into his truck and texting Brock that he was on his way over.
Brock texted back immediately to say Krista was setting a place for him at the table and she wouldn’t take no for an answer. The clock on the dash of his truck said it was four o’clock, and as if on cue, his stomach rumbled.
Chase hadn’t eaten anything since the Atlanta airport, where he’d grabbed a sandwich from the restaurant across from his gate around six thirty in the morning. Add in the time difference, and his body was probably beginning to eat itself from the inside out.
It’d been good to see his mother, and he wished he could have stayed longer, but being in a room with Stacey was taking its toll on him. Add in her two adorable children, whom he’d come to love like they were his own, and it was like pulling his heart out and setting it on fire right in the middle of his mother’s living room.
Parking downtown in Victoria was a premium, and his condo building charged monthly for parking stalls, so rather than fork over cash just to keep his truck in one place for five months, he parked it at his mother’s.
Victoria was a beautiful city and there was nowhere he’d rather live, but he needed to get the fuck out of the downtown core. He wanted to be out in the country, with acreage, maybe get a cow or a horse, some chickens and a pond with ducks.
A lot of work for a single man, but the city life was not for him.
He needed his space.
He needed his privacy.
He needed to know that when he woke up in the middle of the night, he wasn’t going to wake his next-door neighbors with his screaming and get a warning letter under his door the next morning.
Which had been the case when he first bought the condo he was in now.
The only plus side to where he lived was the view and openness of his loft. He couldn’t do the cramped little bedrooms of the other units he’d looked at. Standing in those rooms with the Realtor, he’d already started to feel the walls closing in around him, so the open-concept loft it was. He wasn’t in the penthouse, but the fourteenth floor still offered him a nice view of the harbor and the Johnson Street bridge.
Brock and Krista lived off in the boonies—sort of. Although in a subdivision with other houses around them, they were a ways out of town, surrounded by trees and land and the wild. Brock and Chase would often go running through the trails around his brother’s house or do a couple of loops around Thetis Lake before jumping in to cool off.
It was already getting dark out by the time he approached his brother’s house. The lights were on inside, smoke rose from the chimney, and both Brock and Krista’s vehicles were parked in the driveway.
All four Hart brothers had big black Chevy trucks. The only difference between them was that Heath insisted upon having dual tires in the rear. Brock’s was also the newest but only by a couple of years.
Krista—who had also named their security company, Harty Boys—often referred to them as “The Black Truck Brigade.”
He parked on the street and was just slamming his truck door when the front door opened with its usual creak and a blast of light illuminated the front yard. “Uncle Chase?”
Unable to hide the smile from his face at hearing that high-pitched little voice, he made sure to bring the teddy bear he’d bought for Zoe out from behind his back when he made his way around his truck.
Her eyes, even from a distance, were glowing emeralds, and her smile melted his damn heart to goo. She bounced on the front steps, her red curls jostling.
“Don’t you dare go out in your sock-feet, young lady,” he heard Krista say from inside the house.
Zoe nervously glanced back inside. “I’m not, Mama. I’m just waitin’.” She turned back to Chase. “Hurry up, or I’ll get in trouble ’cause I got my feet wet on the grass runnin’ to hug you.” Oh, this three-year-old was going to give his brother gray hairs in no time. Another reason Chase was glad he was bald.
She was the spitting image of her mother not only in her looks but in personality, too. Kicked ass and took names wherever she went—and that included the playground.
Brock loved it. Called her his little ginger beast.
He was already teaching her hand-to-hand combat in his home gym, teaching her how to defend herself.
You’d never know by looking at her now that Zoe’s entrance into the world had been a rough one. Born premature, barely viable because Krista had been attacked and beaten during her pregnancy, Zoe was as strong as she was feisty and ran circles around her parents with all her energy. It was almost like she came into the world fighting to stay alive and just kept fighting now that she was healthy and totally on course for her age.
He reached the stoop, and just like Connor had, she launched herself into Chase’s arms, peppering his face with kisses as her little hands squeezed his cheeks until he had fish lips. “Too long, Uncle Chase. Too long. You’re not allowed to go away for that long again. Too too long.”
He squeezed her back. “I’m sorry, Zo-zo. I promise I won’t leave you for that long again.”
She reared back and gave him her deadliest Krista face. “You promise?”
“Didn’t I just say that I did?”
Her lips twisted, and she spied the teddy bear. “Is that for me?”
“Would you like it?”
She nodded. “Where’d you get it?”
“Well, I was working in a state called Georgia—”
“Then I will name her Georgia.”
A strong gust of icy wind hit them both, and he felt her shiver. If she wasn’t in long sleeves and pants, he was sure she’d be covered in goosebumps. “Let’s get in the house before we freeze.”
With Zoe still clinging into him like a baby koala, he held on tight, ascended the steps and entered his brother’s home. Much like their mother’s house, it was warm and inviting. A far cry from his cold, sterile, barely-has-anything-in-it loft. He would have stuff when he had the space. Right now, stuff just closed him in and added to the claustrophobia.
A baby’s warble upstairs made him grin as he toed off his shoes.
“How’s your brother doing?” he asked Zoe, not bothering to put her down while climbing the stairs from the foyer to the rest of the house.
“Puts everything in his mouth. Just started walking last week, has bruises everywhere because he’s such a klutz.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head like Zane was just one big nuisance and she didn’t love him more than anything in the entire world.
Chuckling, he turned his attention to where his brother lay on the floor, propped up on his elbow, while Zane climbed all over Brock as if he were some kind of playground contraption.
“Welcome home,” Brock said with a nod.
“Thanks.” He set Zoe down on the ground, and she slid to the floor on her knees beside her dad, showing him her teddy bear.
“Did you thank your uncle?” Brock asked his daughter while twirling one of her red ringlets around his finger.
Zoe glanced up at him. “Thank you, Uncle Chase. I love my new teddy bear.”
“You’re welcome, Zo-Zo,” he said, feeling the ache of how long he’d been away from his family in his chest to the point where some might think they were having a heart attack.
“Got one for Zane, too?” Brock asked with a playful brow lift.
Chase cleared his throat and nodded. He did indeed. The little boy’s teddy bear hung out of the back pocket of his jeans, and Chase pulled the toy out from behind him. Earning a set of surprised wide eyes from Zoe, like he’d pulled a rabbit out of a hat or something. Bending down, he offered it to Zane. The little guy—also a ginger—snatched it and immediately stuck the bear’s foot into his mouth and started to suck on it.
“Hope those are new and not something you found lying about,” Brock said with a snort, yanking the bear from Zane’s mouth, which only caused the little guy to grunt and furrow his brows in frustration at his father.
“Toy store in Atlanta.”
“There he is,” Krista sang, coming up behind him and resting a hand on his shoulder to encourage him to turn around. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. Give me a hug.”
He had no choice. She was already going in for one. Not that he would have balked at a hug. He loved his sister-in-law. Finally, someone who gave Brock a run for his money, didn’t put up with his shit and loved him as hard as he needed to be loved.
“Sorry I missed Zane’s birthday,” he said as Krista squeezed him tight.
“Your gift of a strider bike with flames on it and a matching helmet was much appreciated,” she said, laughing as they pulled apart. “He’s still a little young for it, but he likes to straddle it and make engine noises.”
She released him, and he straightened up to his full height, inhaling deeply and being hit with the scent of sautéed mushrooms and onions.
His stomach rumbled so loudly, Krista’s blue eyes shot to his abdomen and she reached out and patted it. “Gotcha covered, big fella. Making your favorite meatballs with mushroom and onion gravy, mashed potatoes and steamed broccoli.”
His stomach rumbled again, prompting Krista to laugh.
Zane had climbed off his father and toddled awkwardly over to Chase.
Would the little guy remember him? He’d been so tiny and not even crawling when Chase left. Thea didn’t play shy with him. Maybe Zane wouldn’t either.
Big green eyes, the same color as Brock’s, glanced up at Chase, and Zane lifted a chubby finger in the air to point. “Tummy.”
“Yeah, Uncle Chase’s tummy is making noise,” Krista said. She bent down and put her face in front of her son’s butt, taking in a big whiff. “Did you crap your pants, buddy?”
“Go poop,” Zane said with a nod.
Krista glanced at Brock. “You couldn’t change him?”
Brock’s face of innocence had Chase pushing down a laugh. “I swear he hadn’t shit himself a second ago. He did it on the walk over there.”
Krista’s eyes rolled, and she hoisted Zane into her arms. “Right. Same line every time.”
“Is not. I change plenty of diapers.”
“Sure you do,” Krista teased, already halfway down the hall.
Brock peeled himself off the floor and, with a grunt and help from the arm of the couch, stood up. “Beer?” he asked.
Chase nodded and followed his brother into the kitchen. “So what’s next?”
“What do you mean?” Brock opened the fridge and pulled out two bottles of Phillips Blue Buck pale ale, passing one to Chase.
“Next job.” He popped the cap and tossed it into the trash when Brock opened the cabinet beneath the sink to put his cap in, as well.
“Take a breather, brother,” Brock said, his tone turning boss-like and less brotherly. “You just got back.”
“Yeah, from the cushiest, most boring job ever. I was a glorified babysitter. Had to attend her classes with her. Chick is majoring in English lit. Do you know how boring that was?”
Brock snorted and took a long pull from his beer. “Paid well, though.”
“Still feels dirty taking that jackass’s money.”
“His daughter isn’t a jackass, though, and you—we—took it to protect her. Our services aren’t free. We all got bills to pay.” Brock ran his hand over Zoe’s hair when she skipped into the kitchen and wrapped her arms around his leg lovingly.
“Need another job. Don’t want to sit idle.” Chase sipped his beer. Fuck, how he’d missed beer. He never drank on the job, and seeing as he was technically “on the job” twenty-four seven while down in Georgia, he hadn’t had a sip of anything in half a year. Not that he was keen on American beer anyway. Maybe some microbrews but none of that domestic crap. So to have a cool, crisp Blue Buck pale ale as his first beer in forever was almost worth crying over.
“You seen Stacey?” Brock asked, ignoring Chase’s eagerness to get back to work.
His jaw tightened, and he nodded. “She was at Mum’s picking up Connor.”
“Yeah, Mum loves those kids, asks for them all the time. When she doesn’t have my kids, she’s got Stacey’s. If it didn’t give me the willies, I’d say she needed a man in her life.”
“Who says she doesn’t have one?” Krista said, joining them in the kitchen and plunking Zane down next to his sister.
“Does she?” Chase asked, pivoting quickly to face Krista, who was now pushing the mushrooms and onions around in the frying pan with a spatula. He turned back to Brock. “Does Mum have a boyfriend?”
Brock’s shoulder lifted. “Not that I know of.” He glanced at his wife. “Is my mother seeing someone?”
Krista had her back to them, so all she did was shrug. “I can’t say for certain, but you’re doing an awful lot of assuming that she doesn’t have a romantic life. Just because you haven’t met a man in her life doesn’t mean there isn’t one.”
“You better be teasing, woman,” Brock said quickly.
“And that’s exactly the type of he-man, barbarian attitude that will keep you from ever meeting a man in your mother’s life. She raised four alpha-male Neanderthals. What man would she ever want to inflict you four on?”
Chase and Brock exchanged uneasy glances.
Did their mother have a boyfriend? And if so, how serious was it? What was his name? What did he do for work? What was his criminal background? All Chase needed was a name and then he could go digging. Find out how often the man visited the dentist, what his shoe size was, how often he visited porn sites and what his preferences were.
All he needed was a name.
“This guy got a name?” he asked, hoping his tone came off casual. He leaned back against the wall and crossed his ankles for good measure.
Krista cast him a glance over her shoulder, her smile coy. Brock’s wife was no dummy. “Nope. Like I said, I don’t know. But the fact that you guys just assume she doesn’t have any romance in her life is sad. She deserves it, and I hope she has it, and that’s all I’m going to say about that.” She let the spatula rest on the spoon rest and turned back to face Chase. “Your love life, on the other hand, is pathetic. You’re pathetic. And that’s not all I’m going to say about that.”
